There's a Ghost in My Ship
by WriterGreenReads
Summary: Amy liked Star Wars. Not enough to be a part of it. And technically, she's not. Now, as a confused ghost, she has no clue what's going on or what will happen next. A different type of OC story. A drop-in story in which they actually can't do much. This will be fun. No pairings.


"Oh, nononononono," Amy groaned. "This is _not_ happening. This is just some _crazy_ dream, and I'm going to wake up any second, right? _Right?_ "

The desert did not answer.

"AGH!"

* * *

Amy had always thought she was a pretty intelligent person.

Sure, her grades weren't spectacular. She definitely wasn't the top of her class, but she was in a decent community college, and she was getting by. Being a History major was stressful and draining at times, but overall, enjoyable.

But if she was so _god damned smart_ then _why_ was this happening?!

"I'm a ghost," she muttered, staring down at her hands. "I'm… a ghost. OH GOD, I'm dead, aren't I. I died in my sleep." She flexed her hands in horrified fascination, watching the chestnut skin ripple translucently as it showed a distorted version of the sandy ground below through them. " _How_ is this happening?"

Amy remembered falling asleep in her dorm very late. She'd come back from her boxing class, done her homework, then… died?

She whipped her head up and around, staring at the desert landscape. But... one small problem. She lived in _Wisconsin_.

"THERE ARE NO DESERTS IN WISCONSIN!"

Her furious shout didn't echo at all, it just faded into the pale morning light like the shadows gradually growing with the rising sun. Amy growled, smacking a hand to her face. Dragging it downwards in frustration, she discovered that, very unhelpfully, she was also floating. About a foot off the ground.

Wonderful. She couldn't even destroy anything from here.

There was about ten more minutes of existential freaking out and screaming before she finally decided to calm down.

"Okay, okay…" The young woman took a deep breath. Hesitantly, she tried moving forwards. After a bit of concentrating, she discovered that she could float forwards at a decent pace. It wasn't exactly walking, but it was almost flying and that was a start.

Amy chewed on her bottom lip. Blew out a gust of air.

"Okay," she sighed. "So I guess I'm stuck like this." Folding her legs up carefully, she was pleasantly surprised to find she could sit a bit higher up mid air. Out of habit, she reached back to tie up the thick black mass of hair settling over her shoulders, relieved that she at least had a hair tie in this weird ghost state. That done, she gazed around again, taking in her surroundings more carefully this time.

"...What the heck?"

This desert… wasn't exactly normal. It almost looked like an abandoned part of the ocean, with massive chunks of… land-coral jutting up from the sandy landscape. It was oddly familiar to her. She hummed thoughtfully, turning to look over her shoulder.

"Well, this is o-HOLY CRAP."

Amy screeched and toppled backwards, arms flailing.

"SPIDER!"

There was a cold, though not unpleasant feeling as the -oh God that was enormous- spider creature marched through her insubstantial form, seemingly not hindered by her presence at all.

Laying flat on her back on a good three feet of air and breathing hard, Amy stared at the sky, not daring to believe it.

" _What?!_ "

She scrambled upright again, dimly noting the ease in which she could do so and stared in utter disbelief as the spider continued on its way.

"I…" Amy stammered, racking her brains at the familiarity of the sight. Huge, sandy, top heavy spider? "I _know_ that thing."

She made an abrupt about-face and willed herself to follow the monster. She caught up just as it went over a small ridge and descended downwards. The young woman stopped, and her jaw dropped.

Ships. _Space_ ships. A large base was laid out, stark against the natural ruggedness of the surrounding terrain. A few people milled about, and some definitely did not look human. There was a line of markers in the sand around the perimeter. More spiders were crawling around the edge, not continuing any further into the camp.

"Oh my God…" Amy whispered yet again. Her incredulous gaze wandered around the unbelievable sight, her brain finally catching up and putting it all together. Her sight landed on one very familiar rounded symbol, painted proudly in red on one of the smaller ships. " _Rebels_. I'm… this is… This is _Star Wars_."

* * *

"If I wasn't dead and impossible, this would be pretty cool," Amy admitted to herself, wandering through the camp.

Of course Amy knew about Star Wars. Jason, her twin brother, had gotten her into it when they were both about twelve. She, though a bit of a closet fan, was very fond of it. She even loved the prequels. And WOW did Amy enjoy the shows.

She had started watching Rebels only a month ago, after finishing Clone Wars. It had taken a bit of adjusting, because Amy was a tad obsessed with the latter show, but she quickly found that it had its own charm, and had promptly fallen in love.

"Aaaaaannnnd now I'm _in_ Rebels," she muttered. "Which is impossible." She turned to watch a blue-skinned Twi'lek walk by, still a bit bemused that no one seemed to notice her. "But, maybe a little cool?"

The adjustment was bizarre, though. She was so used to the show and it's animation that she almost hadn't recognized seeing all of it in real life.

It was a lot dustier than she had expected.

"I wonder," Amy mused, whisking around another ship. "When _is_ this? Season three? It's on break now… Whoa." She stopped short, because _she recognized that ship._ "Is that the Ghost?"

It was.

"Whoa," she repeated, getting closer. "Okay, I take it back. This is _definitely_ cool."

Amy stopped short in front of the ramp leading into the ship's interior. Leaning forwards cautiously, she peering inside. No one home. Still, she hesitated.

"Oh, come on," she muttered finally, willing herself to move inside. "It's not like anyone can see me."

The inside of the ship was just how she had remembered it. She circled the cargo bay in awe, just taking it all in.

"Wow… I am such a geek."

Floating over to the door leading to the rest of the ship, she hesitantly put her hand out to touch it. The door didn't move.

"Right." Amy rolled her eyes. "Ghost." A thought struck her. "But the spider went _through_ me… Does that mean I can-?" She leaned forwards a little more.

Amy's form slipped through the door with a bit of willpower, sending a wave of cold through her. She winced slightly at the foreign feeling.

"Hey, it worked!" She laughed delightedly. Her voice still didn't echo, even in the tight metal confines of the ship. That odd realization sobered her for a second, before a thought struck her and she snickered.

"Heh… There's a ghost on the Ghost."

"BWARP."

"GAH!" Amy whirled around, startled by the sudden beeping noise. Her shocked gaze fell on a very familiar orange astromech droid.

"Chopper!" The girl cried gleefully in recognition.

The droid didn't seem to notice her, just wheeled over to another panel and opened it, grumbling to itself in a series of discontented warbles. Amy watched in amusement. She had a feeling that if the general audience could understand what Chopper was saying, the show would have a significantly higher viewer rating.

"I'm feeling a bit better about this whole thing now," she told the oblivious droid. "It's nice to see you in person."

Chopper didn't reply, as expected, just backed up and rolled back towards what she recognized as the front of the ship. The door whooshed open, and through he went, with another series of beeps.

"Doing… repairs, I guess?" Amy mused. That seemed logical. She glanced over to the open panel. "On what?"

She floated over to get a better look, tipping over to cock her head at the unfamiliar pattern of wires. She reached out a finger, forgetting for a second that she couldn't touch anything and tapped the open hatch of the panel. Her finger went straight through the solid metal. "...Drat."

Pulling herself back into a cross legged sitting position again, she frowned thoughtfully. "Can I really not touch anything?"

Amy furrowed her brows in concentration, and leaned forwards again, more determinedly this time, _willing_ herself to _touch the panel_.

Her finger tapped the open hatch. CLANG! She jumped as the panel fell shut again.

"Yes!" She pumped a fist in the air. "I can kind of touch things!"

There was a confused warbling noise from behind her. Amy shot a glance over her shoulder, to see Chopper in the room once more. The droid tilted to one side, staring at the hatch. After a few moments, it shook itself, and seemingly over its confusion, returned to the panel, dropping a small screwdriver on the ground before opening the hatch again and returning to repairs.

Amy bit her lip, the barest hint of a giggle bubbling up inside her. She _knew_ she shouldn't, but she was still reeling a bit from the whole you-are-now-in-Star-Wars realization and couldn't help herself. She reached out a hand and flicked the hatch shut again.

With a series of tumultuous beeps Chopper teetered back in annoyance and confusion. Amy sniggered.

The droid opened the panel. She shut it. Chopper open it again. Amy gleefully smacked it shut. On and on it went.

"WOPWOPWOP." Chopper's dome spun around, small metal arms flailing in distress. Amy lost it, holding onto her sides as she giggled helplessly. Eyes brightening, she scooped up the small screwdriver the droid had dropped, faintly noticing it become as see-through as her the instant she picked it up.

Chopper rolled backwards, still beeping and looking around frantically. It's arms gradually started to retract as it settled down. That's when Amy made her final move.

The metal tool clanked off Chopper's body, substantial again now that she had thrown it. The droid let off a startled squawk. Chopper fled for the door, various arms flapping and a steady stream of what she was sure was binary profanity filling the air behind it. Amy followed, still laughing.

"I'm sorry, Chopper," she managed through snickers. "Come back!"

Chopper was having none of that, though. He headed straight down the ramp in great distress, and rammed directly into someone coming up at the same time.

"OW! Chopper!"

Amy came to such a quick stop that she would have fallen straight on her backside had she not been a ghost. Shock ran through her mind.

Ezra rubbed his shins, wincing. "What was that for?!" he snapped. Chopper spit a rude noise straight back at him.

Amy quickly shut her mouth, acutely aware that it was open. "So, _that's_ what Ezra looks like in real life…" she said weakly.

It was definitely season three. Ezra's hair, so black it gave off blue reflections of the harsh desert sunlight, was sheared short and close to his head. The padawan would be taller than her if she was standing up straight, and she was taller than most girls. Bright blue eyes, currently glimmering with annoyance, glared downwards at the still-warbling astromech.

"Ezra?" Amy glanced up immediately, along with the addressed person, and she blinked again. A green-skinned and very familiar Twi'lek woman was making her way over to them. Hera Syndulla frowned as she stopped, hands on her hips.

"Intimidating space mom," Amy mumbled before she could help herself.

"What have you done to Chopper now?" Hera demanded.

"Nothing!" Ezra protested. He backed off a pace as Chopper bashed into his legs again. "He was complaining about something on the ship, but I couldn't make it out because he kept _hitting me_ ," he grumbled, keeping a watchful eye on the droid, who had now turned its attention to Hera.

Hera raised an eyebrow. "There's… a ghost," she deadpanned. "On… the Ghost."

Chopper beeped a desperate affirmation.

"Geez, Chopper, I think a few of your circuits are loose," Ezra muttered. Chopper whirled its top in indignation, starting for the human again.

"Alright, alright!" Hera said, stepping in between the two as Ezra retreated from the electric prod with a yelp. "I'll go check your ghost for you myself, Chopper." She sighed. " _Then_ will you finish the repairs?"

The droid shrunk all its limbs back inside itself before giving a sulky grumble.

"Great, let's go." Hera glanced back at Ezra. The padawan was looking around, a puzzled frown creasing his face. "Are you alright, Ezra?"

Ezra blinked, shaking himself. "Yeah, fine. It's just…" His eyes swept around, lingering on the spot where Amy floated, silent and watching, just a tad too long to be a coincidence. "I thought I felt something."

Amy shifted in surprise. "I didn't think of that," she muttered to herself. "Am I a _Force_ ghost?" She glanced down at her translucent body. "Nah. I'm not blue."

"Anyways, I need to go find Kanan," Ezra reached up and rubbed the back of his head ruefully. "I'm late for Jedi training."

"Well, don't let me keep you!" Hera called over her shoulder, following a still-indignant Chopper into the ship.

Ezra waved, before sweeping his gaze around the area one more time and heading off in the opposite direction.

Amy, after a mere moment of consideration, followed.

* * *

 **I have no explanation for this. I _have_ had the "ghost" idea for a while, because I thought it would be interesting have a story such as this in which the OC _couldn't_ tell the characters everything that was going to happen and save all their lives. So, if you are wondering, yes, the Ghost crew will get _some_ interaction and _some_ information from Amy, but she's not going to fix their universe for them.**

 **And no, Amy is not myself. Before anyone asks. Or accuses.**

 **This story is mainly for laughs, and hopefully you, Rebels fan, will see a bit of how you think _you_ would react in this situation in Amy.**

 **Feel free to send suggestions of what you think Amy (or perhaps what _you_ ) should do!**


End file.
